He was a military looking person, as Leander now perceived, and he had a close-trimmed iron-grey beard, a high colour, quick eyes, and a stiff hard-lipped mouth--not at all the kind of man to trifle with. And yet Leander felt no inclination to tell him his story; the stranger might be a reporter, and his adventure would "get into the papers"--perhaps reach Matilda's eyes. "I--I dropped a ring last night, certainly," he said; "it may have been in the gardens, for what I know." "Now, now," said the stranger, "don't you _know_ it was in the gardens? Tell me all about it." "Begging your pardon," said Leander, "I should like to know first what call you have to _be_ told." "You're quite right--perfectly right. I always deal straightforwardly when I can. I'll tell you who I am. I'm Inspector Bilbow, of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard. Now, perhaps, you'll see I'm not a man to be kept in the dark. And I want you to tell me when and where you last saw that ring of yours: it's to your own interest, if you want to see it again." But Leander _had_ seen it again, and it seemed certain that all Scotland Yard could not assist him in getting it back; he must manage it single-handed. "It's very kind of you, Mr. Inspector, to try and find it for me," he said; "but the fact is, it--it ain't so valuable as I fancied. I can't afford to have it traced--it's not worth it!" The inspector laughed. "I never said it was, that I know. The job I'm in charge of is a bigger concern than your trumpery ring, my friend." "Then I don't see what I've got to do with it," said Leander. The officer had taken his measure by this time; he must admit his man into a show of confidence, and appeal to his vanity, if he was to obtain any information he could rely upon. "You're a shrewd chap, I see; 'nothing for nothing' is your motto, eh? Well, if you help me in this, and put me on the track I want, it'll be a fine thing for you. You'll be a principal witness at the police-court; name in the papers; regular advertisement for you!" This prospect, had he known it--but even inspectors cannot know everything--was the last which could appeal to Leander in his peculiar position. "I don't care for notoriety," he said loftily; "I scorn it." "Oho!" said the inspector, shifting his ground. "Well, you don't want to impede the course of justice, do you?--because that's what you seem to me to be after, and you won't find it pay in the long run. I'll get this out of you in a friendly way if I can; if not, some other way. Come, give me your account, fair and full, of how you came to lose that ring; there's no help for it--you must!" Leander saw this and yielded. After all, it did not much matter, for of course he would not touch upon the strange sequel of his ill-omened act; so he told the story faithfully and circumstantially, while the inspector took it all down in his note-book, questioning him closely respecting the exact time of each occurrence.